The question was, how did she find out what he might have done? How did she find out if she couldn’t use her own computer to do a search on the subject? She needed to get to a public library, where she knew she could use the computers with privacy. But she didn’t particularly want him to find out she had left the apartment, at least not while she was gone. Afterward—maybe it wouldn’t matter.
What she knew about technology wasn’t anything to write home about. She knew nothing about computers or the intricacies of how they worked. All she knew were the basics, things she had learned in high school such as PowerPoint and Excel.
But she did know several things about cell phones. Probably only enough to get her into trouble, but the small amount of knowledge she had was all she had to work with at the moment.
Obviously, she knew the smart phone he’d given her had Internet access. She knew that when it was in the apartment, it picked up the wifi in the building. When she took it outside, it picked up the signal from the cellular carrier. And damn lucky for her, it was the same cellular carrier where she’d purchased her pay-as-you-go phone.
She was positive there was a SIM card in her old phone because she’d taken it out once when she thought her phone had gotten damp. She was fairly certain that most smart phones came with SIM cards—but not all of them. She knew that the smart phone itself was the little computer that allowed access to the Internet, much as a Tablet did but on a tinier scale. The SIM card was the little doohickey that allowed the phone to make calls.
So what she was planning was simple in theory, but dangerous because that’s where her knowledge became completely sketchy. She thought that if there was a SIM card in the smart phone, she could just switch them, and then carry her original phone with her when she left the building—thereby, leaving his tracking device in her bedroom. That way, if he phoned or sent her a text, she could answer and respond—and he’d never know she wasn’t in the penthouse.
What she wasn’t sure of were a couple of things. Well, many things but she didn’t need to borrow more trouble. She had no idea what kind of application or software Marco was using to track her. She couldn’t see an icon on the smart phone that indicated a simple application to track a missing phone. But that made sense, because if he was tracking her on the down-low, he wouldn’t want it to be openly visible to her. So, she had no idea what kind of system he was using, and even if she had known, that’s where her knowledge dried up.
So that came to the other big problem. If she managed to switch the SIM cards, would the missing component disable the tracking device and thereby alert him to a problem immediately? Or would it, as she was hoping, continue tracking the phone at the apartment, never knowing the phone had been separated from the SIM card?
She’d probably never know the answers without asking Marco, which obviously, she wasn’t prepared to do. At least not yet. And none of this would even be possible if she hadn’t watched her cousin ‘jailbreak’ a smart phone about a year ago so he could use the phone on a different carrier. He had assured her it was perfectly legal, as he’d bought the wildly popular phone for full price at the cellular store. Yeah. If only he’d bought liability insurance instead.
She steadied her nerves and took out a nail file and paperclip from her purse and set them aside.
She got everything else ready to leave the apartment, herself included, because if she was successful, the very second she had the SIM cards switched, she was walking out the door.
Ten minutes later, she had the answer she’d hoped for about the SIM card in the smart phone and she had the SIM cards switched. Of course, she still didn’t know if he would or wouldn’t know she’d left the building, but she was willing to take that chance.
She already debated the best place to leave her smart phone and her first inclination was to hide it—but then she immediately blew off that idea because if it was being tracked, he’d know where to find it anyway. And if he did come home and come in search of her, her story would be she’d forgotten it. Of course that would only work if he hadn’t tried to contact her while she was out. Either way, she was going to have to take a chance. She walked from the bathroom, and as she didn’t know if she was being watched, she casually walked to her bed and began fluffing the pillows and putting the magazine on the bedside table. She dropped the phone back on the bed where he had originally thrown it and then headed out to find the public library.
* * *
Natalie was determined to get back as quickly as she could—if she’d disabled the tracking device, which she absolutely hadn’t wanted to do and which she herself didn’t know, he would be pissed, that was for sure. She had a moment of high nervousness sitting in the library after the first thirty minutes had passed. The information on the Internet was all over the place about the cell phones. The technology was changing so rapidly that any of a number of things would have been available to him. She finished reading as quickly as she could, glancing up continuously from the table where she had her back against the wall—to the entrance of the library.
She managed to get some decent information in under an hour, and when she walked back in the apartment, praying like hell he wouldn’t be waiting for her, she knew what to look for as far as cameras were concerned. She changed into a ragged pair of shorts that had seen better days, switched the SIM cards back again, and then prepared to act like she was dusting the house with a vengeance while she searched for the hidden items that might or might not be there.
An hour later, she was ninety-eight percent sure she wasn’t being physically watched. As far as her computer was concerned, she knew with her limited abilities, she probably wouldn’t ever be sure if he’d tampered with it. She didn’t think he had, but again, she couldn’t be sure. Monitoring her keystrokes would have been done via the software that might have been installed, and other than having it completely wiped by someone who knew what he was doing, her hands were tied. And even then, it might not be a completely preventive measure. And—she couldn’t afford to do it.
But it didn’t matter so much anymore, because she’d found out what she needed to know. Other than wanting to know what the shit he was capable of, she wasn’t keeping anything hidden from him, and for now, she’d just be careful while using the laptop. She breathed a massive sigh of relief. Even though she was pissed off about what he’d done to her phone, she didn’t believe he was a deranged, controlling freak. Take that back—she still thought he was controlling, but she was sure his main issue was the money she owed him.
She’d applied for a library card and borrowed a stack of books while she was there, just to see what his reaction to them would be. Yeah, she’d be able to know for sure, unequivocally, if he was tracking her, by his reaction to the pile of books. A very satisfying feeling of evil vindictiveness slid through her. She would know soon enough.
* * *
Natalie was sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen when Marco got home from work. A pot of spaghetti sauce was simmering on the stove and the pasta and French bread were already prepared as well.
She flipped through a colorful cookbook, one she had gotten from the library, and another five books sat in a pile by the side of her, definitely hard for him to miss.
She heard him walk in, but pretended to be absorbed in what she was reading while she absently reached out and took a sip of her Diet Coke.
“Hey.”
She jumped and spun the chair in his direction. After the morning they had had, she wasn’t quite sure how she wanted to play this. “Hi,” she said softly, holding his eyes. “I hope you like spaghetti.”
“I’m Italian.” He smiled at her as he took another step into the room.
She smiled a half-smile in response and lifted herself from the chair and went to the stove. “Are you ready to eat?”
“Yeah. Give me ten to grab a shower.”
“Okay,” she said as sweetly as she could manage. Her emotions were everywhere. She was about to know for sure. And the fact tha
t he’d broken up with Tanya was banging around loudly in her brain as well, refusing to be ignored.
She felt him stall in the door instead of turning and leaving. She stopped stirring the sauce and turned with a questioning look.
He was looking at the pile of books as if he had never seen one before. “Where did those come from?”
“I found the public library today,” she said, trying to keep her tone as even as possible, and then smiled at him again, before stirring once more. “Don’t get excited yet,” she rambled, waiting for his reaction. “The spaghetti isn’t anything fancy—I don’t have the right ingredients yet to try any of those recipes.” She indicated the open book sitting out on the island.
He narrowed his eyes slightly and a frown came between his brows. “I hope you remembered to take your phone with you. Downtown isn’t always a safe place.”
She dropped her gaze from his just perfectly and stirred the sauce again.
“Natalie—you remembered to take your phone, didn’t you?” His words were as controlled as she’d ever heard them.
Bastard!! He was tracking her movements with that goddamn phone. She turned back around and met his eyes just briefly before dropping them once more. God, her acting abilities were fantastic! She’d never known that about herself before. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t even realize I didn’t have it until I got back in and found it on the bed.” She looked at him and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Marco.”
He studied her, his eyes penetrating, trying to delve deeply into her psyche. “It would make me feel better if you took the phone with you when you left the building, Natalie. I’m only thinking about your safety.” His eyes glittered harshly from across the room. “Do you think you can remember that?”
“I’ll do better, I promise.” Asshole.
* * *
Late that night as Natalie was getting ready for bed, a sharp knock rattled against her door, followed immediately by Marco opening it and coming to stand in the threshold.
She gasped and turned around from her dresser, facing him, clutching the top of her pajama set to her naked chest. Thank God, she’d slipped the matching tap shorts on only seconds before.
Breathing heavily, she retreated a step until she backed into the dresser. “What do you want?”
He stood in the doorframe, sudden color highlighting his cheekbones, his nostrils flaring. “I need an escort tomorrow night. I was going to take Tanya, so you’re in.” He began walking toward her, and Natalie couldn’t get her throat to function enough to answer him—not when her brain was barely functioning.
He stopped a few inches from her and lifted a black American Express card and showed it to her before reaching behind her and placing it on the dresser. Her eyes clung to his face, and she knew the instant his gaze left hers to land on the mirror behind her, where he could see her naked back.
She clutched the shirt to her chest, trying not to hyperventilate. Awareness ran from her breasts to her tummy, and her thighs began trembling. “Can’t you find someone else?”
“Where am I supposed to find someone on such short notice?” His eyes landed on her again before sliding down to focus on her collarbone.
“I—I don’t know.”
His hand reached out and a single finger moved softly, back and forth, over her collarbone as he spoke. “There will be a car waiting for you at ten in the morning. Take the card and go buy whatever you need. It’s only a semi-formal event—a cocktail dress will be fine. Shoes, bag, make-up, hair—get whatever you want—spend whatever you want. Call Joy before you leave—she’s made the arrangements. She’ll know what you should do and where to go.”
Her heart hammered and she barely understood a word he said. The single brain cell left inside her head was focused entirely on the finger that was stroking her. Her tongue reached out and dampened her dry lips and she felt his eyes drop to her mouth. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Marco—”
“It’s just a small charity thing that the bank supports. You’ll be fine.” His hand reached out and lifted her chin and his eyes tangled with hers. “How could you not be? You’re beautiful.” His thumb swiped her bottom lip and she trembled and felt herself swaying toward him as her entire being flooded with desire. “So pretty.” His eyes left hers, running over her hair, down her body, all the way to her toes and then back to her face again. “So very, very pretty,” he whispered.
Marco reined in the lust that clawed through his guts when Natalie gripped his shoulders with hands that trembled. He knew she didn’t realize the top she’d been covering herself with had slipped and fallen between them. Her naked breasts were pressed against his stomach, and the soft feel of them after weeks of wanting her and not being able to touch her was almost too much to bear. He should have ended it with Tanya the moment he’d met Natalie. He might as well have done it; he hadn’t slept with her since he’d set eyes on Natalie.
Natalie disturbed him in every possible way a woman could disturb a man. He recognized that much; but didn’t intend to fight it any longer. He had to have her, and soon. He didn’t much care what it would take—getting her into his bed had become the number one goal in his mind. It was more important than anything else in his life at the moment; he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the bank or anything else for that matter, until it was accomplished.
But he had to go slow. There was something soft and gentle about her, something almost innocent and naive that was telling him that seduction was in order. He knew her age—knew it would be almost impossible for her to still be a virgin. But the girl shaking in his arms—this young woman who had been retreating from him since the first day they’d met—there was no way she could be very experienced.
She was like a fine wine, delicate and silky, going to his head at once and making his brain spin. He desperately wanted to touch her breasts, wanted to feel their soft weight in the palms of his hands. He wanted to taste them, lick them and suck them—until she begged him for more. And then he wanted to give her more. He wanted to give her more until the ache he felt all the way to his soul went away. It had slowly been building since the day he’d met her. He’d wanted her then—and it had only grown worse with each passing day. Seeing her, smelling her, watching her.
It didn’t escape his notice that in all his thirty-two years, he’d never wanted another woman living in his home. He’d never wanted anyone to get close to him. Since he’d been a teenager, growing up in his grandfather’s home, with his grandfather’s name and money, he’d been a mark for grasping women. He’d lost his virginity at fifteen—to a woman fifteen years his senior who had walked into his bedroom on a night his grandfather had been hosting a party. She’d been beautiful and worldly and he’d fallen under her spell that night—for a few hours.
He’d found out later that she hadn’t come alone to the party—she’d left her escort downstairs when she’d wandered off to find him. The experience had left a sour taste in his mouth—made him feel naive and stupid, but it had taught him a lesson. Sex was sex. It was a bodily function—a need that had to be quenched. The women he’d dated in college had been grasping as well—every one of them out for the money. He’d made the mistake once, in his senior year, of thinking someone wanted him—just for him. But then he’d overheard a conversation that had hardened his heart forever. It was the same old song and dance again. Rich boy—grasping woman. And since then, he’d never let anyone come even remotely close to changing his mind. He’d learned a long time ago never to let a woman get close to him.
He wasn’t proud to say that he’d walked on the dark side when it came to his sex life since then. He’d done things that, if he let himself think about them, he’d be ashamed of. But he’d learned a long time ago, not to think of sex when it was over. He always tried to find partners who were as—hungry—as he was. Nothing was off-limits to him—except for other men. He’d even been so disillusioned from the cheating he’d seen all around him that even matrimony wasn’t an institution he resp
ected anymore. He only allowed himself to go after experienced women; women who knew the score and were happy to play the game—in fact—were usually the ones who instigated the game.
He didn’t have girlfriends; he had sexual partners, and sometimes, more than one. There had been women in the past, women like Tanya, who had wanted to label themselves as his girlfriend, even though he’d told them bluntly at the beginning what his requirements were.
He’d never thought of any of them as his. Not Tanya, not any of them. He’d never had a woman of his own. How could Tanya have thought for even half a second that if she’d belonged to him, that he would share her? Soon after they’d met, she’d taken him to a party that had managed to shock him—cold and cynical as he was. It had become obvious to him immediately that the event was an excuse to switch sexual partners. He’d known right away what his choices were. He could leave—or he could stay and go with the flow. If he stayed his heart would become even blacker. But by that time, he’d already damned himself in his own mind and he couldn’t come up with a compelling reason to leave. He cared nothing for Tanya, and after that night and all the nights like that since then, saw her and the myriad of women he’d slept with, as nothing more than sexual relief.
He’d always protected himself against pregnancy and disease as well as he could. He used a condom religiously. He had regular blood work done—had himself tested several times a year. In fact, he’d just gotten a clean bill of health in the last few weeks.
And now Natalie had entered his life and he was feeling things for her that he’d never thought possible. Had he ever wanted a woman this badly? He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d ever wanted anything as much. It was taking over his brain, infiltrating every waking moment of his life. Having her in his house and not being able to touch her—God.
Natalie began to tremble in earnest; his hand delved into her hair while his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her up and into his torso. He heard the air leave her lungs and her breathing stagger as she stood in the radius of his arms. He lowered his head and his lips came to the corner of her mouth. “You’re trembling.”